Permanent player at my game, Lyra, has left NY and moved down to NC, but happened to be up for this weekend. I hosted everyone over and we shot the shit, did not play, but actually did the turn at the table in front of them, which was nice. Already working on finding a replacement for her as she will be missed. So this adventure and its coming to the end series of posts, is her swan song with us.
Follows:
FIVE HUNDRED TWENTY SEVEN
(I/C)
Giving a clap on Abraxas’ back, Brendon drew his Alha short blade and pulled his elven cloak tighter around his shoulders. Dodging for the edge of the room, he flitted his way from shadow to shadow (<Hide in Shadows, Red 21) and picking his way across the chamber with care (<Move silently, Red 33).
The rest of the party was working hard to take the Mongrelman down, with Wyn leading the attack, “Wyn stabs at Mongo!” He plied his short blade, cutting overhead chops when able to (>+6 to hit, Orange 1 – Fumble! 1-2 hurt self, 3-4 hurt friend, 5-6 stunned 1 round. Orange 2 – Hurt self 1 hp!) but the Mongrelman gave the elf a backhand, bloodying his lips and making him see stars. “Damn it!”
"Your kin's blood is on my hammer,” Kovid announced, the dwarf fighting through the many bruises and battering he had been taking (>+6 to hit, Yellow 14). His hammer cracked out, smacking the brute on the chest and there was a snapping sound like breaking bones from the impact (1d8+3 Damage, Yellow 4+3=7 Damage!). “He died from it, and so will you."
"Si, Señor Lameta, no tengo tiempo por sangre.” Abraxas was staying back, but had gotten his crossbow out, loading up a bolt to fire. “Solo tengo tiempo morrir."
Lyra was following up on the daze Mongrelman, the Lolthian Flail hitting with repeated cracks and whacks (>+4 to hit, White 17), making it blubber and cry as it tried to defend itself and failing (1d6+2 Damage, White 5+2=7 Damage!). “I hate to do this, but it’s beyond time!”
With the monster barely able to stand and Brendon getting into position behind it, Lannis let the weave of magic flow down to this hands, pink lights flowing back and forth over his skin. "My men are not expendable,” he snarled, “And I don't do this kind of work. IN BET GRAV POR!" A massive burst of chaos ripped open and a 3 foot long enchanted shaft of light flew out, spearing the Mongrelman in the face (1d6+1 Damage, Pink 6+1=7 Damage and killed!”. It cried out and pitched backwards, Lannis glancing down at it and said, “You are one ugly…motherfucker.”
The party congratulated themselves, moving swiftly to open the footlockers the orcs had stacked together near what was assumed to be Grimtooth’s bed. They opened it up, and it was filled with gold. As was the next, and then next, and the next. All in all (random check), there was 6,989 gold pieces amongst 7 footlockers.
“WHY are we doing this adventure anymore?” Lyra asked again. “I mean, take out money and leave and fuck the Corfard.” She sighed. “I know, I know, I’m allowed to be excited and wish otherwise.”
(Last healing pulse: 1d4+1. Red3+1=4= Brendon heal 4!). Abraxas was moving the lockers to his bag of holding as the party finished their looking around the room. “So, back to de vault?” Wyn asked. “It’s been awhile, oui?”
“What about the last brass ball?” Brendon asked, “We gonna try that first before we rest up?”
Time now is Day 11, 5: 42 PM
(OOC)
Mirror Image – 23 minutes
Terrific job guys! What’s next?
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